Blue in the Moonlight
by Crittab
Summary: "They never did define what they were. How could they? The only word that came close was 'everything', and even that wasn't enough." Rated M for Caryl's first time.


**Title **- Blue in the Moonlight

**Rated** – M

**Warnings** – Sexytimes

**Disclaimer** – I don't own The Walking Dead.

**Summary **– "They never did define what they were. How could they? The only word that came close was '_everything'_,and even that wasn't enough." Rated M for Caryl's first time.

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**Blue in the Moonlight**

One could not call Daryl Dixon a vulnerable man. His veneer was solid and well formed after years of practise. His eyes betrayed nothing during the day, not a single shred of anything but hardness.

But at night, in the darkness of the cellblock with only the tiny slats of moonlight filtering through, he looked at Carol and she could see deeper into his blues that she'd ever seen in anyone's eyes before. There was something about the nighttime, alone in their silent cell, that opened him to her. She lived for those moments.

Whatever the _thing_ between them was, it had never been defined, and Carol doubted it ever would be. They didn't make grand proclamations, though sometimes he'd take her hand and hold it for more than a split second. He didn't ask her to marry him, but she knew he would be devoted to her as she was to him until their dying breaths – no matter how soon or distant those breaths might be.

They just _were_. And at night, in their cell, they were everything they needed to be.

The first time they made love, it was as silent as it was sensual. Carol leaned in and dropped her lips to his, revelling the roughness of a thousand summer days. He kissed back, a recently discovered technique noticeable beneath the small quiver she still detected, reminding her that this was new to him - sex, maybe; intimacy, definitely.

Whatever lives Daryl had lived, they both seemed to realize on that night that it didn't matter. If he was a ruffian or a thug _before_, he was a good man and a protector _after_. They lived in the after, and Carol felt nothing but safe in his arms.

She pushed her body against his, both laying on their sides, touching at almost every point they could be, despite the rough, tattered clothes between them. Daryl's hand found purchase on the curve of her hip and refused to move, even as Carol's hand traced the long length of his arm, fingers dancing over over-worked muscles, down to his hand. She tried to push it lower, and laughed lightly into his lips as his grip tightened.

"It's okay," she whispered, so low that she could barely hear herself. He looked at her with those blue eyes shining in the darkness and allowed her to see his worry. She offered a small smile, a comforting one, and his fingers loosened enough that she could guide his hand beneath the hem of her shirt and onto the skin at the base of her spine. She lifted her leg over his hip while simultaneously reclaiming his lips, as if to distract him from her heat now in line with his slowly growing erection.

She could hear his breathing speed up slightly as she fitted herself more tightly against him, moving her hand to his lower back and applying some pressure to pull his hips into hers. He kissed her more fervently then, opening her lips with his tongue and probing perhaps a little further than she would have liked. She pushed back with her tongue, and he retreated just enough.

Carol smiled against his lips as he pushed her onto her back, taking position slightly over her, though still resting on his side. His leg dipped between hers and she ground against his thigh almost without meaning to, moaning softly into his mouth at the feeling she hadn't had in far too long.

Daryl, emboldened, pulled his hand from under her shirt and down to cup her backside, pulling her more firmly against his upper thigh, his own hips moving in unison with hers of their own volition.

Carol slipped her hand beneath the hem of his shirt, running her palm over the skin of his stomach and chest. She smiled when he seemed to shudder at the feel of her fingers gliding over his nipple, and the way he swallowed hard before kissing her deeply, tangling them further, pulling her closer.

That night they didn't lose their shirts, and Daryl only barely lost his pants. Carol pushed her pants and underwear off, while Daryl did just enough to free himself, before climbing fully on top of her and sliding inside. Once fully sheathed in her heat, he grasped her hand almost desperately and dropped his head into the crook of her neck, fighting not to move too hard, too fast. Fighting to make it last.

Carol wrapped her legs around his waist and pushed her hips up toward him, feeling him jerk slightly inside of her and moan into her throat. He pulled his head up and looked down at her, the same concern in his eyes mingled with an almost overwhelming lust. Carol leaned up and kissed him lightly, giving his bottom lip a teasing nip before pulling away. She smiled up at him then, encouraging him in the way she knew she had to.

"Take your time," she said quietly. She saw his adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard and nodded. He pulled her hand, still clenched in his fist, to his mouth and kissed the back of it before taking his first testing thrust. Carol watched his eyes close tightly, almost transforming his face into a grimace, as he began pushing in and out of her slowly. He was putting just a bit too much weight on her, and his thrusts were uneven and shorter than she would have liked, but if you had asked her in that moment, she would have admitted that nothing had ever felt better than being filled by Daryl over and over again in the dimly lit cell of a Georgia state prison.

As the end neared, Carol became accustomed to the idea that he would finish before she did, and she was perfectly fine with that. Having him speed up inside of her and come apart was worth every stunted conversation, every awkward touch, every moment of uncertainty and discomfort they'd had together as they grew closer. She knew then, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she loved this man.

After he finished, he let her guide his hand to her centre to bring her to her peak manually, and as he watched her come apart with the most tender gaze she'd ever seen, she knew then that he loved her too.

When all was said and done, he climbed into the bed behind her, pulled the sheets up to their chests, and wrapped his arm tightly around her, pulling her back into his chest close enough that she could be a second skin.

They never did define what they were. How could they? The only word that came close was _everything_,and even that wasn't enough.

**End**

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